Raspberry Tights
by GoforthAndConquer
Summary: Hatter has a particular fixation he just can't seem to ignore. Alice x Hatter. Rated M just to be safe.


Hatter had never been a man that could pay attention for prolonged lengths of time. He was easily and often distracted, caught by the shimmer of a bronze belt buckle or the whistle of a vaguely remembered melody or the soft silk of a delicate scarf. There was too much in the world to pay attention to any one thing, and Wonderland, with all its nonsensical landscapes and fantastical creatures and curiously twisted inhabitants, always offered new and rare things to notice. His senses were constantly bombarded and he always indulged them to the fullest, letting his attention flicker like a candle flame, always shifting, always caught by something new.

And suddenly, Hatter found himself utterly fixated by a pair of raspberry tights.

~*~

He had first noticed them when he'd spun his chair around and seen her for the very first time. He had first taken in her raven hair, wet tendrils sticking to her cheeks, and then he'd noticed her dress, clinging sodden to her very attractive figure, and as a man he'd allowed himself a few lascivious thoughts. Then his gaze flickered downward and he was inextricably caught. Her legs, long and lean and curved just right, were coated in stockings the color of mulberry wine that was sticking wet to her skin and Hatter found himself strangely taken by them. Women in Wonderland were not known for their modesty, the revealing nature of their garb letting him catch more than just a glimpse, and Hatter was quite familiar with all the aspects of the female form. And yet this oyster, this girl named Alice, was standing soaked to the bone in the middle of his office and all he could wonder was what her legs looked like beneath those raspberry tights.

~*~

His attention, usually whimsically fleeting and fluttering from thought to thought, was lingering far too long on those tights, and Hatter couldn't help feeling restless as they made their way to see Dodo. There were so many things passing by, colors and textures and sounds and yet every time his mind wavered, she'd cock her hip or cross her ankles or kick a stone and he found himself back where he started. This little oyster was unsettling him something fierce, and he didn't like it one bit. The sooner she was gone, the sooner he could fix his mind on other things. Different things. New things. Things that were not and would never again be raspberry tights.

~*~

Hatter found his obsession irrevocably solidified when he was on his back, Dodo perched above him with fist raised, and one perfectly luscious berry stockinged leg eclipsed his view. Her muscles were flexing beneath the saturated material, and her periwinkle skirt inched just high enough that he could see the smooth curve of her thigh, and Hatter was so transfixed that he barely registered her boot slamming into Dodo's face. He flipped over on his stomach, the sounds of fighting muffled behind him, clinging to his hat and wishing that the material beneath his fingers was nylon and silk rather than leather and carpet. And then she was grabbing him, pulling him along and they tumbled into the bus and pain was flaring in his chest and she was beautiful, tights and all.

~*~

The remaining boat ride was silent, and it left Hatter trying very hard to not stare at what he most certainly wanted to stare at. Alice was sitting beside him, legs stretched out in front of her, and while Hatter did not know her middle name or her favorite color or her birthday, he knew her well enough to know that Alice was not the kind of woman that appreciated being ogled. But those legs were so close to him, barely a breath away, and his fingers positively itched. Urges nipped at him, all he could think about was tearing those tights off with his teeth and letting his fingers running over bare skin and torn silk until every craving inside him was thoroughly satisfied. Unable to help himself, Hatter ventured a glance, trying not to get caught, but his gaze shot upwards and then he couldn't look away. Alice was looking straight ahead, staring at the shore, and her eyes, sapphire steel, were fixed on something in the distance, something he couldn't see, and for some strange, inexplicable reason, Hatter wanted that something to be him.

~*~

The first thing Hatter noticed when he returned to the campfire were the tights. The fire had dimmed in the middle of the night, leaving the clearing heavy with chill and him unable to sleep and so he had decided to remedy the situation. He had hoisted himself up and loped off into the woods, his thoughts staying behind with Alice and all the curious sensations she evoked within him, but when he returned the sight before him made him nearly drop the firewood in a heap. The tights were flickering deep crimson in the firelight, like spilled wine, and were quite without their owner. They were hung close to the fire, loose and fluttering softly in the breeze, and Hatter swallowed. Hard. His mind was racing faster than his heart could keep up and it left him slightly dizzy and his mouth dry. The raspberry tights were empty. Which means that somewhere, Alice was without tights. Which means that somewhere, Alice's legs were completely, wonderfully bare. His gaze was frantic for a moment until it landed on the girl in question, curled up in the dilapidated excuse of a bed. Her pale shoulders were exposed and her jacket, _his _jacket, was lying across her legs, with just the pale tips of her toes peering out. In a daze, he went back to his pallet, setting his hat beside him, resting his head against the wood and all the while Hatter was consumed by the thought, the utterly marvelous thought, that Alice's gorgeous legs were pressed beautifully bare inside his very own jacket. The thought played itself over and over as he fell asleep, a small smile playing on his lips.

~*~

When Hatter woke up, she was gone, taking her tights with her and leaving his jacket behind. Like she had left him.

~*~

He had never been happier to see those raspberry tights than when they were swinging toward him, hanging above the abyss, and suddenly Hatter found himself with an armful of Alice. She felt better than anything he'd ever encountered before, better than chocolate cake and stylish hats and hot tea and suddenly it all seemed so very dull compared to her. She was out of his arms far too soon, his hands still burning from where he'd clutched her hips, and as they ran through the casino, Hatter could do nothing but follow those stockinged legs no matter where they led.

~*~

Her tights were wet again but Hatter couldn't enjoy the sight nearly as much as he wanted to. Despite the fact that he had risked everything to save her, lost everything to stand beside her, had even taken a bullet for her and would do so again, Alice didn't trust him. Was still clinging to Jack Chase, who was really Jack Heart, who was not really her boyfriend and yet she trusted the lying son of a jabberwock more than she did him. Jack Heart, who had probably felt those silky tights beneath his hands, and the strong legs underneath. And standing on that beach, exhausted to hell and soaked to the skin, Hatter realized that he had never hated anyone more than he hated Jack Heart. And had never wanted to be that somebody else so very badly.

~*~

Alice was riding away, her berry clad legs urging the horse forward and away from him, and as Hatter's chest swelled in anguish, his ribs threatening to shatter from the strain, he knew what he had to do.

~*~

She was in his arms again, properly this time, and Hatter was sure that this was what it felt like to be drunk on Emotion, head swirling color and his heart racing and feeling so good it almost hurt but he'd rather die than let go. Unfortunately, that was a rather literal option, so Hatter swallowed down every urge simmering inside him and released her from his embrace. What he said to her was true. He did want to save that until they were safe, not just safe from danger, safe from anybody and anything that could interrupt him from taking this brave, beautiful girl to a very private place, preferably with a bed and a strong lock on the door, and slip those berry stained tights all the way down her long legs and make her as wonderfully mad for him as he was for her. But it would all have to wait just a bit longer, and Hatter was more than willing to be patient. If just this once.

~*~

Alice was gone. Everything that was her was gone. The raven colored hair, the creamy pale skin, the sapphire steel eyes, the stubborn set of her mouth. The brown ankle boots, that periwinkle dress, and those damnable raspberry tights. Gone. Disappeared into the Looking Glass, rippling outward at her departure, and then nothing. Hatter stood there, silent and not quite sane, trembling ever so slightly. He looked down, the velvet jacket still hanging over his wrist, and with a sudden move he crushed it against him. It was still warm from her skin and still smelled like her, lavender and spice and so very Alice that something inside his chest broke, and with a quavering breath and his gaze strangely blurry, Hatter realized that something was his heart.

~*~

A day for her. Four months for him. And the sight of her, in denim rather than tights but with a blinding smile on her face, did more to repair all those broken pieces inside of him than time ever could, and then she was hurling herself into his arms and he just had to kiss her and she was kissing him just as fervent and it was so much better than any dream he'd ever had because it was real.

~*~

"That's the third pair of tights you've destroyed, Hatter," Alice tried to scold, but the weak little gasp didn't quite have the same effect, and that was precisely the point. Hatter kept silent with a wicked grin, bending his head to her now bare knee, his tongue darting out for a taste that made her shudder so sweetly that he almost forgot his purpose. But he didn't, and instead he trailed his fingers upwards, skimming them along her sensitive skin, until he pulled himself up and kissed her hungrily, nipping at her mouth while his hands did their work. He pulled back slightly, her lips swollen rose, and his smile was pure sin as he glanced up at his handiwork, her pale wrists a sharp contrast to the berry colored nylon knotted tight around them.

"Perhaps," he conceded, one hand tilting her chin up as the other made soft circles on her hip bone, little teasing caresses that made her whimper, "But I think this is a much better use of them. And somehow, my Alice, I think you agree."

And then he kissed her again, drowning them in madness, and they both forgot all about the raspberry tights.


End file.
